


can you hear me calling

by littlelocaldreamer



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: ASG 2019, Edmonton Oilers, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Road Trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-02-01 04:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21370303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelocaldreamer/pseuds/littlelocaldreamer
Summary: “Who do you think wins?” Connor asks.“You.” Leon answers, no hesitation.“Yeah? Me?” Connor grins.Leon's face softens. “Always.”
Relationships: Leon Draisaitl/Connor McDavid
Comments: 6
Kudos: 102





	can you hear me calling

**Author's Note:**

> title by fleetwood mac

Connor’s never spent so much alone time with Leon before. They’ve been teammates for years but there’s always been a bit of space between, a significant amount of distance.

They’re on their way to the All Star game and Connor’s actually nervous of all things. 

He hates how weird he’s being. Happy and easy-going one second, clammed up and stiff the next. Leon’s sweet and receptive of it all—having never been anything but friendly and supportive in all the time Connor’s known him. 

They play well together and occasionally enjoy one another’s company off the ice as well. Connor would even consider them close.

It’s just odd.

There’s no one else with them on this trip and it forces him to realize for as much as he likes Leon, he’s never actually gotten to know him on a genuine level. Part of that’s bitterness about being grounded in Edmonton, part of that has to do with the fact that Leon confuses him. 

And Connor hates being confused. 

He’s a smart guy. Hard thinker. Self-aware. He recognizes what he’s feeling. He hasn’t had a crush in years—doesn’t even remotely know what to do about it. But that’s what this is. 

The ill timed blushing, the awkward mumbling, the avoidance of Leon’s eyes—it’s only happened once or twice for him before. In elementary school. 

That’s why the lack of a team buffer between them has got him all mixed up. 

He sighs. 

He’s probably screwed. 

Out on the ice, his infatuation is easy to ignore. Connor excels in compartmentalizing. They have a job to do and they get it done—often well, and often together.

They’re both projecting at 100+ point seasons and while getting there has been tough on their bodies its been amazing for their chemistry. Even if the team as a whole sometimes feels beyond hope—playing with Leon never frustrates Connor. 

It makes him stronger. Just like he makes Leon stronger. 

They arrive at their hotel, not much said between them. But the silence isn’t uncomfortable. Leon’s as polite and companionable as ever. 

Connor’s the weird one. He’ll start a conversation just to not keep it up. Or ask Leon questions about Germany that he already knows. Or trip over his own two feet again and again like a toddling duck who forgot how to walk. 

It’s all a massive joke, really. 

Leon doesn’t call any of his erratic behavior out, thank god. 

He’s unpacking his toiletries an hour or so later when there’s a loud knock on his door. He glares at the irritated looking pimple on his forehead in the bathroom mirror, throwing the skin patches he brings on road trips back into his bag. He’ll deal with it later. 

Leon greets him with a soft, devastating smile when he opens the door, looking snug in his black North Face. “Hi Davo.”

Connor returns the smile. “Hey Drai. Want to come in?”

Leon tilts his head back, glancing over his shoulder. “Actually. I was wondering if you wanted to check out the beach?”

Connor‘s eyebrows shoot up. He wasn’t expecting that. “Really?”

Leon shuffles his feet, looking down momentarily. When he looks back up, it’s from under his ridiculously long lashes. Connor bites down hard on his tongue. 

Leon waves his hands around in a way that he does when he wants to get something out. “I figured we have an entire day—it’s still early. And I know you’re basically stupid famous but we could rent a car. Actually, the staff could pull—“

Leon never talks this fast. Or this much. It’s clear he wants to do this. Connor moves forward, placing a hand on his strong forearm. “Hey yeah,” he murmurs fondly, worried Leon thinks he’s not into it, “that sounds great. Meet downstairs in 20?”

Leon grins, holding out a fist. “See you then.”

Connor bumps it, and absolutely does not hug himself like a puffed up stuffed animal as soon as the door closes. 

//

They’re both wearing sunglasses and hats, looking utterly conspicuous as they drive up Highway 1. 

Connor’s never seen Leon in a hat before, as crazy as that is, and when he mentions so Leon laughs and says, “I don’t want to cover my beautiful face.”

Connor laughs too. He can’t hold back his delight as he says, “That’d be terrible for us all, eh?”

Leon shakes his head, snorting under his breath as he looks out the window. 

Connor’s driving, lightly tapping his fingers on his knee. An urge keeps arising in him, telling him to reach across the seats and take Leon’s hand in his own, but he doesn’t. He settles with putting both hands on the wheel and stares forward, focusing on the road.

The drive isn’t long, less than an hour. And since it’s a week day morning it’s not nearly as crowded as Connor was anticipating. 

They leave their shoes on, still chilly despite the sunlight beaming down directly on them. 

They don’t speak until they reach the shore.

“Fastest skater, huh? Go for three?”

Connor looks out across the Pacific, tracing the horizon with his eyes. It's beautiful in California. He loves trips here. He hums under his breath, bumping Leon playfully with his shoulder. “We’ll see.”

Leon bumps back. “It’ll happen.” 

The way he says it, so confident and cool. It does something to Connor, insides briefly lighting up then flaring out. He’s not nervous about the competition, not necessarily. But there’s a lot of consistent pressure put on him to perform. Even if it’s just for the fans, even if only for fun.

He doesn’t want to let anyone down. 

“Do you want to touch the water?” Leon asks, already moving towards it. 

Connor smiles at his retreating back, taking his time looking around and enjoying the view. 

When he makes it to the ocean Leon has his hand in it, visibly shivering as he rubs water over his fingers. 

It’s definitely not adorable. Not in any way.

“Cold?”

Leon turns to him, smirking. “Very. Exercise caution, Davo.”

Connor bends down, resting on his haunches as the next wave approaches. He’s not prepared for the shock of it—the pure icy electricity that travels through him as the water engulfs his hand. 

He jumps back, laughing at Leon’s eye roll as he shakes off his hand and wipes it on his jacket. 

“I told you!”

Connor grins, leaning into his space. “You did. I just didn’t realize.”

Leon gives him a strange look then. One he’s never seen before. Connor opens his mouth but no words come out. Like the sentence he was about to form has fallen off a cliff—long gone. 

Leon’s eyes flicker to down to his lips, quick but not even remotely subtle. A spike of panic lights Connor up and he moves back, nervous and suddenly—stupidly—afraid. He licks his own lips, self-conscious. 

Leon frowns at him, but it’s so quick Connor wouldn’t have even seen it if he wasn’t so used to seeing Leon’s face so frequently out on the ice. 

“Alright?” He asks, almost sounding breathless. 

Connor nods, jerky and weirdly overcome. He points back in the direction of the parking lot. “Do you want to get something to eat before we head back? I’m sure there’s somewhere local.”

Leon smiles. “Sure. What do Californians like?”

Connor looks back out across the ocean, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He tilts his head forward. “Sea food?”

Leon makes a face, like Connor knew he would. Leon’s not a big fan of the raw fish diet—and that's okay. This weekend is a celebration. 

Connor smirks. “Hmm. What about McDonald’s?”

Their trainers would absolutely murder them. Leon looks scandalized but nods eagerly with a laugh, always a sucker for french fries and a Big Mac. 

Connor bumps him playfully heading back to the car, feeling like a kid. “Local food only, eh? We’ll burn it off tonight.”

Leon salutes him, rare toothy grin on his face. “You got it captain.”

//

They’re killing time between sets and shoots the following day, hanging out in their slick black jerseys and chatting on their own with whoever happens to stop by.

They keep gravitating towards one another though, never out of the other’s orbit for too long. It makes Connor happy.

It's getting closer to the time where they need to part and go get their uniforms on but Connor doesn't want to leave just yet. Leon’s messing on his phone while Connor mucks about, watching previews of the upcoming skill qualifiers.

He’s not really all that anxious anymore, more lightheaded and loose than he was before. 

Going to the beach the day previous helped calm him down immensely. Getting out of his own head, driving through beautiful scenery, spending quality alone time with Leon. 

“Hey.”

Leon sneaks right up next to him, still playing a game on his phone but pressing into Connor every few seconds or so. Reminding him that he’s here. 

Connor presses back, continuing to watch highlights on the TV, twirling his hockey stick round and round.

He looks at Leon eventually and asks, “Who do you think wins?”

Leon doesn’t even hesitate as he answers, “You.”

Connor grins. “Yeah? Me?”

Leon's face softens. “Always.”

Connor can’t help how his smile overtakes his entire face at the words, glancing away quickly before the cameras can catch it. 

His heart flutters and he grips his stick tight. There‘s butterflies in his stomach threatening to burst through his mouth. 

He has to get it together. 

He discreetly ditches Leon when John Tavares comes to speak with him, somewhat guilty over it. But he needs to get water and attempt to cool down, craving a quiet moment of peace before he has to enter a screaming arena.

He’s never been more grateful for the fact that he doesn’t easily flush off the ice in his life.

//

They both kill their skill competitions, like Connor hoped they would. 

He’s so happy with all the much deserved attention Leon’s been getting. He’s always been lost in Connor’s shadow—with the Gretzky favoritism, the “Next One” title, the early Captainship, the collective faith in resurrecting the Oilers franchise. 

But Connor has always known how good Leon is, how strong and secure. He’s clutch for their team. He’s vital to Connor. 

They’re having room service in Connor’s room their last night in San Jose and all Connor wants to do is talk about Leon and the crowd’s reception of him, the media’s attention focused on him.

He doesn’t even really notice how uncomfortable Leon’s gotten until he stands and moves away from their steaks, walking to the tall windows overlooking the city. 

Connor’s not a big talker. He prefers to observe and listen rather than chat and gossip. But now that he thinks about it, all he’s been doing today is running his mouth. About Leon, near Leon, to Leon.

Leon himself hasn’t really said much all day. And he barely even acknowledged Connor earlier when they were with all the other players and fans and press. 

He stops whatever train of conversation he had going and sets his fork down. 

“Hey,” he says, somewhat self-conscious, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to talk so much.”

Leon turns around, crossing his arms in his gorgeous black Under Armour and leaning against the windowsill. His muscles bulge. His jawline tightens. He frowns. 

“Do you—do you think I’m bad...or something? That I shouldn’t measure up?”

His voice is softer than Connor’s ever heard it. Connor swallows, loud in the room. 

He stands, clutching his hands together. “What?” 

Leon bites his lip, uncrossing his arms and bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, a signature nerves move Connor’s picked up on over the years. 

“You’re acting like—like me performing well is a surprise.”

He shakes his head and looks down at the ground, kicking a socked foot slowly back and forth. He’s really nervous. And it’s so strange for Connor to see. 

Connor walks over to him, hands outstretched like he wants to hold him, like they’re out on the ice. But they’re not. So he lets his hands drop. 

“Hey—what? No. Leon, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant at all.”

He comes to stand next to him, leaning against the window so they both face the room rather than eachother. 

Connor’s pulse rabbits in his throat, hands beginning to sweat both at their proximity and his anxiety over correcting his missteps as quickly as possible. 

“I’ve known how excellent you are for years. And I’m just...really happy that everyone else is finally starting to realize it too.” 

He chances a side glance, noting with victory Leon’s lips twitching into a small smile. 

Connor leans into him, feeling bold and silly at the same time. “You’re my favorite player. Not just as a teammate...but to watch and learn from. You’re always teaching me something.”

Leon turns his head, and suddenly their mouths are so much closer than Connor realized. It feels like there’s something lodged in his throat, making his breathing all stuttered and choppy. 

Leon’s eyes are so wide, open like Connor has never seen before. “Connor—really? You mean that?”

Connor doesn’t know what overcomes him, but he leans closer still, Leon’s body enveloping him in the most addictive rush. 

“Yes, I mean that.”

Leon knows Connor doesn’t talk just to have something to say. He doesn’t lie. He doesn’t front. He’s straightforward, always. But still- he looks so surprised. Like he doesn’t believe what Connor’s saying even for a minute. 

Connor decides to do what he’s always done when he wants something—go for it. 

“Tell me you want me to stop,” he whispers, bringing a hand up to gently rest against Leon’s jaw.

Leon gives him the most open, adoring look.

“Connor—I’ve waited years for you to catch up. Please don’t stop.”

Connor makes a small, wounded sound under his breath before he closes the last centimeters between them, lips against lips—chest against chest. 

It’s so soft and tender Connor’s heart positively aches with it. Leon’s big hands come to cradle his face and Connor’s never felt small before—not once in his life—but he does now. 

And he doesn’t hate it. 

He moans into Leon’s mouth, not even self-conscious about it because he suddenly realizes that this man may actually be his very best friend—and Connor? He likes him. 

And it makes him giddy to think Leon might even like him back. 

They kiss and kiss against the window, high above the rest of the city in their own private little world. It feels so good for Connor to rest his body against Leon’s—to not feel it give out like it would if he were with someone more petite. 

But Leon is so strong—and when he manhandles Connor over to his bed and lays him down on top of it—Connor’s never been harder in his life. 

Leon climbs to rest on him, pressing their mouths together again. It remains coy and flirty for an impressive amount of time, like they’re both a little scared to take it to the next level so they just peck and sip and press secret smiles into one another’s skin.

But when Leon presses his hips into Connor’s and their cocks line up together for the first time, Connor gasps aloud and Leon takes full advantage, sliding his slick pink tongue into the warm, wet cavern. 

Connor surprises himself by wrapping his lips around it instantly and sucking, intimating an even more sultry act. 

Leon moans and Connor feels the vibrations of it all the way down to his core, gooey and melting with every moment passed spent underneath Leon’s body. 

Connor pulls off of sucking Leon’s tongue after a couple of minutes, pressing kitten kisses all along his face as they grind together deliciously sweet in their sleek black sweats. 

The material feels so good and Leon feels so good Connor keeps arching his hips to chase after both sensations, insatiable and dazed. 

“Connor, fuck—“ Leon breathes, voice breathy and blissed out as Connor bites down into his neck. 

He’s so hard, cock damp in his briefs as they cling to one another and push their hips together over and over again. He doesn’t want to come—doesn’t ever want to stop feeling this good. 

And from the way Leon will keep pulling back, he doesn’t want to stop either. They keep on for ages, frotting and rolling around together until Connor literally can’t keep his eyes open from the dizziness of it all. 

“Baby,” Leon gasps at one point, bringing one hand to Connor’s face and the other down to the waistband of his pants, “can I?”

Connor’s eager in his response, surging up against Leon’s bulk with his mouth, wanting more kisses and body heat. 

“Please, please,” he murmurs, deeply uncaring of how desperate he sounds.

“I want to make you come so badly.”

And Connor’s struck by how raw Leon sounds, almost devastated. Like he isn’t capable of making that happen, like he can’t be trusted to take Connor all the way.

“You will,” Connor reassures him, bringing his hand down to guide Leon’s big one straight to his cock—wrapping them around it in a solid grip. 

He keens, knees coming up around Leon.  


He’s never felt anything so good in his life. 

Drool collects in his cheek as they begin jerking him off together, using slick from the pink, swollen head to ease the way. 

“You feel so good on top of me,” Connor tells him, not thinking of anything except pleasure, “you make me so feel so safe—“

Leon whines, pained and damp against Connor’s cheek, dropping his hips down to grind his own erection against Connor’s thick thigh. 

Connor kisses at his hair, his temple, the point of his nose—“I love how you’ve got my back on the ice no matter what—I love how we play together so well—I love how no one else can touch us—“

No one else can touch you—is what his brain supplies but he doesn’t say. 

“Connor—baby, I—“

Leon’s hips speed up, crazed and uncontrolled as he whimpers and comes into his pants. He bites at Connor’s cheekbone, panting heavily and swearing softly in German. 

They’re both still jacking Connor’s cock, wet and blood-hot between their joined fingers, but the sounds Leon made, the way he whispered “baby”—

Connor can’t hold out. Especially when Leon murmurs, “Let me take care of you" and increases his speed, giving the ache between Connor’s thighs the direct friction it so painfully needs. 

“That’s it Connor, you're so good, come—come in my hand.”

And Connor does, shaking with the praise as he gasps. He squirms, giddy and high as his thighs tremble against Leon’s warm, soft shirt.

They lay together for ages after that, lost in the glow and eachother—kissing and whispering and smiling and dozing off. 

Connor has no idea what this means for them now or if he’ll go back to being weird again tomorrow. Probably. He's a weird guy. 

But it’ll be alright because Leon gets him. And that goes both ways now.

And if nothing else, they’ll both be in Edmonton for a very long time. 

Neither of them going anywhere. 

Which is just as well, because Connor thinks he may want to be with Leon everywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> giving 9729 the attention they deserve! thank you for reading. oh, and that ASG “conversation” actually happened. it’s literally blink and you miss it—but it’s *so* cute. minute 1:33 here: 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5c5e0GOCa6k&t=97s


End file.
